


Nothing But Endless Sky

by watanuki_sama



Category: Psych
Genre: But not a songfic, Gen, Pre-Series, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting arrested by his own father was the last straw. Shawn had had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But Endless Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 03/10/2011 on ff.net under the penname 'EFAW'.

_"I'd sure hate to break down here_  
 _Nothing up ahead or in the rearview mirror_  
 _Out in the middle of nowhere knowing_  
 _I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rolling…"_  
~'Break Down Here', Julie Roberts 

**OOOO**

_"I'm gonna pack my bags and never look back_  
 _Run a parallel line with the railroad tracks_  
 _And make my getaway_  
 _I'll put the pedal to the metal as the sun goes down_  
 _Leave everybody sleepin' in this sleepy town tonight_  
 _And at the break of day_  
 _I'll be a runaway"_  
~'Runaway', Love  & Theft 

**OOOO**

**Nothing But Endless Sky**

The gas gauge was leaning perilously close to E. And something was banging and clanking underneath the hood. Shawn was getting worried.

His eyes kept flicking towards the red line, then upward, as though the vista would change. But the flat expanse of _nothing_ stretched on, as far as the eye could see. A straight ribbon of grey pavement with flat, rolling lines of sand to either side. In the far distance, there were mountains -he had no idea which ones- but they hadn't moved any closer in the hours he'd been on this road, and he didn't expect them too. Biting his lip, his eyes trailed to the gas gauge again. That was more worrisome than the noises under the hood. The noises had started up an hour ago, but nothing had exploded or overheated yet, so he could probably push the bike a little farther. But if he ran out of gas, he would be stuck here in the middle of nowhere, and he wouldn't be able to get started again.

He really, really didn't want to be stuck here.

This was what he got for buying used.

Sure, the guy had said the bike was 'like new', and the outside had been shiny and spotless enough to support that claim. But any decent bike that Shawn could buy for six hundred bucks was probably a piece of crap. At the time, it hadn't mattered. Anything with wheels that would get him out of Santa Barbara was good enough for him. But now, he was in some desert somewhere and his bike was going to die _any second now_ and he would die out here with no one knowing where he went.

A pang of regret struck through him at that thought, and he thought of Gus. Gus would be frantic by now. Not like his dad, who would be a quietly steaming pile of sheer, unadulterated rage. Gus would be worried and thinking of everything that could have happened to his best friend. He probably wouldn't find the note Shawn left until later tonight, and then, knowing Gus, the other male's mind would spin out of control with worry about all the different terrible tragedies that could befall someone on the road.

Shawn had intended to call Gus when he stopped for the night, but his bike was about to die and he might not get that chance.

As though prompted by his thoughts, his bike sputtered and coughed.

Horrified, Shawn glanced down, seeing smoke slowly curling out of the engine. "No, no, no, don't die on me now, dammit. Don't you _dare_ die on me now!" Peeling one tired hand off the handlebar, he banged the side of the engine, hoping against hope that his empty threat and violence would make the engine spark back to life.

All he got was another sputter, a thicker stream of smoke, and the final _pu-put pu-put putputput_ as the engine died and the bike slowed to a halt. Cursing, he stuck one leg out to catch himself as the bike stopped, swinging off the seat and glowering at the damned thing. Then, in a rush of unexpected anger, he lashed out with a yelled curse, kicking the side of the bike.

That only resulted in the bike teetering, then, slowly, falling over.

Shawn let out another yell, this one a little more desperate, and fell to his butt on the dusty road. "Stupid piece of crap bike," he muttered, blinking rapidly to keep from crying. He was tearing up, but he refused to let the tears fall. "Can't even run away right." This last accusation was aimed towards himself, not the bike, and he dropped his head into his hands.

Maybe his dad was right. Maybe Shawn was nothing more than a screwed-up loser piece of crap. That's all Henry had been able to call him lately. (Not in so many words, but Shawn understood the underlying message.) Ever since his dad arrested him and made it impossible for Shawn to become a cop, Shawn knew he was a failure in his dad's eyes. Shawn finally managed to get the message across that he didn't want to be a cop and he _never_ wanted to be a cop, and now his dad couldn't even look at him without being disappointed.

Which was why Shawn left. Getting arrested by his own father was the last straw. Shawn had had enough.

But now, here he was, stuck in the middle of god-knew where, with nary a town or road sign in sight, with his broken down piece of crap bike toppled on the side of the road. Maybe dad was right. Maybe Shawn was nothing more than a lousy screw-up.

Maybe he should just go home and give up.

With a weary sigh, he leaned back, staring up at a sky so clear and bright it hurt his eyes. He didn't know where he was, somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico or something, but the sky was the same here as it was in Santa Barbara. They got these same skies there, too. He wondered if it was this clear right now in Santa Barbara.

Gus would definitely be frantic right now. He's probably think Shawn ran away two days before graduation on purpose, just to make Gus so nervous and upset he'd flub his valedictorian speech. And his dad would be quietly stewing in the bleachers, expecting Shawn to waltz in at the last second, and getting angrier as his son failed to show up for his own graduation.

Of all the things he'd done in his life, Shawn probably thought that this would make his dad more disappointed than anything else. Especially since his mom had flown in last night, just to be there. Shawn wasn't too worried about his mom, because no matter what had happened, he'd always had a good relationship with her. But Shawn knew that this little prank would be the end. His dad would probably never want to even _look_ at him now.

Which was a good thing.

Or so he told himself.

With another sigh, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, brushing himself off in a futile attempt to get rid of the dust. More just billowed up to take its place, but it was the effort that counted. Glaring at the fallen pile of metal, Shawn debated just leaving the damned thing here. But even if he did get to a town, he was low on cash, and he couldn't afford another ride. Anything he _could_ afford would probably be another piece of crap anyway. Might as well stick with the crap he knew.

It took an exhaustive amount of effort, and in the end Shawn was certain that he'd sweated himself dry, but he managed to somehow get the bike on two wheels again. Panting, he draped himself over the handlebars and half-heartedly pushed the bike forward. It was much harder to walk a motorcycle than it was to walk a bicycle, and after only a few feet, Shawn had to stop and gasp for breath. He should have packed water. But then, he hadn't expected to get stopped in the middle of the goddamn _desert_ either.

It was his first time running away. He would learn.

Groaning, he leaned against the bike, peering uselessly forward. There was nothing but a mirage of heat lines radiating up from the pavement. He supposed the wavering phone lines on the side of the road were a good sign, because it meant that _someone_ was nearby and needed to talk to other people. Unless the phone lines were a heat mirage too.

He wasn't about to go over and find out.

Huffing, he pushed the dead weight of his bike forward, kicking up a small trail of dust in his wake. Oh god, it was hot. Next time, he was definitely going to bring water along. Maybe he would bring nothing but water, a whole backpack full of water. Why wasn't there some sort of guide or manual about running away? There should be.

Ten minutes of straining and huffing and puffing, and all he could hear was the thud of his own heartbeat in his ears. So it was no surprise that Shawn missed the truck coming up behind him and slowing down at his side. Had he been paying attention, his observant mind would have seen the dirty pick-up in his bike's mirrors, but he was focusing a little more on trying not to scald his lungs with burning air.

"You alright there, son?"

The term, which reminded Shawn all too clearly of his dad, had the hackles rise on the back of his neck, and he whipped his head around with a glare. But it wasn't his dad. It couldn't have been his dad, because it was…like…noon or two or something, so dad would still be at the graduation ceremony. Dad wouldn't be able to follow him for at least a few more hours, and he wouldn't be able to go that far anyway, what with being a cop and all.

It wasn't his dad. It was just an older man with thinning grey hair tucked into a baseball hat, leaning out the window of his pick-up as the truck paced Shawn. Letting the bike stop (with relief), he leaned against the vehicle, trying not to look like the miserable slacker his dad accused him of being.

"Yes?" he gasped, not quite sure what to do with this. This was an old man with a truck, in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the man was going to offer him a ride. Maybe the man was going to haul him off even further into the middle of nowhere and butcher him to feed his flock of vultures. Right now, Shawn would have taken either choice if it got him off this endless road and out of this boiling heat.

"You alright there?"

"Oh. No. My bike broke down."

The old man stared at him for a second, then nodded to himself. "You need a ride?"

"That…would be awesome." If it got him off this road, he didn't care where this man was taking him.

With the old man's help, Shawn got his bike up in the bed of the pick-up truck, wedged between a few crates full of nothing but hay and a well-loved shotgun. Shawn didn't ask, simply climbed into the passenger's seat and relaxed, his bag in his lap. They putted down the road for five minutes, every ache making itself known with each and every bump in the road, before Shawn thought to ask, "Where are we going?"

A long pause, then the old man said slowly, "I'll drop you off in Pritchett. Doug's a decent mechanic."

And that was that. The old man wasn't going to say any more on the matter.

Shawn was alright with that. Since his throat felt like sandpaper and it still hurt a little to breathe, Shawn wasn't worried much about anything except where in Pritchett he could find water, preferably a lake or pool he could just stick in his head in and drink out of. Letting out a soft sight, he closed his eyes and let the silence envelop the truck. If his dad had seen him now, he wouldn't believe this was the same Shawn, but Shawn wasn't going to think about his dad right now.

The ride was blissfully short, and they arrived in Pritchett in thirty-five minutes. It would have taken Shawn hours to walk the bike as far. Pritchett was a Podunk little town in the middle of nowhere, a true one-horse town if Shawn had a say in it. It was the sort of place that existed solely for the many farmers who lived miles off, so they could have a grocery store and a pub in one place. The truck puttered to a stop in front of the only garage on the street, and Shawn eased his body out of the car, stumbling to the back to get his bike. The old man offered no assistance, merely leaned out of the car and yelled a robust, "Doug!"

Shawn nearly dropped the bike on himself when a woman in overalls and a grease-smeared t-shirt came out, responding with an annoyed "What?" When she saw the old man, she rolled her eyes and said, "No way, Frank, don't tell me that old heap needs more TLC. I just had her here two weeks ago."

"Not me. Him." Frank jerked his head back towards Shawn, and Shawn, bike now resting at his side after a tiring fight with gravity, grinned weakly and waved.

The woman stared at him, then waved her hand at Frank. "Alright, off you go, you busybody. Leave this to the professionals." Without a word, Frank took off, leaving Shawn collapsed against his bike and the woman walking over to greet him, paying no attention to the heat or the dust in the air. When she came up beside him, Shawn said the only thing that came to mind.

"Doug?"

The woman grinned, holding out a hand, and he shook it. "Jennifer Douglas. Frank's an old-fashioned chauvinist who believes that mechanics should only be men, so he denies the reality in front of him by calling me Doug." She flashed him a coy smile. "But you can call me Jenn. Come on, help me get this girl inside."

Placing his hands on the seat as she grabbed the handlebars, Shawn pushed the bike towards the garage. "No offence, but you don't sound like most mechanics I know," he admitted, hoping this really wouldn't cause offense. Turning the only mechanic in town against him wouldn't be beneficial to his cause at all.

Instead of being offended, she laughed, a full, hearty laugh that was so different from most California girls' titters and giggles. Shawn rather liked it. "Daddy made sure of that," she explained, parking the bike to a stop inside the garage. "Wouldn't let me take over until I got a college degree."

"In what?" The question probably sounded more absentminded than he intended, because he really was interested, but he'd just spotted the miracle of all inventions in the corner. Releasing his grip on the bike seat, he strode to the water cooler and grabbed a paper cup off the top, filling the thing to the brim and tossing it back. Oh, sweet bliss.

He filled another cup, then a third, and tried not to seem too dehydrated. From the grin he saw on Jenn's face when he turned around, he didn't quite succeed.

"Business," she answered, squatting down and prying up the cover over the engine (and, if he was going to be honest, Shawn had never seen anything sexier in his life. But that might have been the heat talking.) "Daddy said a person should be able to run her own business before she got hold of it, or else it would all fall to ruin." She sat back on her haunches, pulling a nearby toolbox to her side, and without looking up from the box, said, "You haven't given me your name, by the way."

He chuckled, taking the next cup of water a little slower, now that his throat no longer felt so much like dry sandpaper. "Shawn Spencer, by the way."

"Well, Shawn Spencer, lemme see what the problem is and whether I can fix it. Hang about, this shouldn't be too long."

It wasn't. In under half an hour, she sat up, wiping her hands on her jeans, and said, "Well, it isn't too bad. You overheated, and there are some worn-out parts I need to get to replace, but it won't take long to fix. Maybe, oh, three, four days to get the parts in, and less to fix her up." Standing, she looked over at him, still draped comfortably over the water cooler. "You want lunch? You can tell me about yourself."

Pushing up from the cooler, he tossed the paper cup into a trash can. "There's not much to tell."

As it turned out, there was quite a lot to tell. With just a few simple questions from her, Shawn found all his worries and frustrations and anger spilling free over a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie. She just sat quietly, a contemplative look on her face, and he ranted and stabbed at his pie, leaving a gooey mess on his plate.

When he finally wound down, he looked at the remains of the pie, then took a bite. As unappetizing as it looked, pie was delicious pie.

She took a bite of her own piece of pie, chewed for a moment, and asked, "So where are you headed now?"

He sighed, picking listlessly at another bite. Even delicious pie couldn't make him feel better right this second. "I don't know. Away. Somewhere down the road."

"Why?" Though he hadn't explicitly stated it, he'd said enough that she knew he ran away. Maybe she didn't meet many runaways, because she sounded a little puzzled. Curious and interested, but puzzled, like she couldn't understand his motivations.

Slumping back, he picked at another bite of pie. "I just…I wanted to see what it was like out from under my dad's thumb." After his previous rant, Jenn knew all about the grudge he had against his father, and there was something about her that made him want to be honest with her. It was a special person who managed to do that. His mom and Gus were really the only other ones he'd felt that way around.

He'd left because he wanted to explore, and he wanted to see what kind of person he was when he wasn't fighting his dad. He knew what kind of person he was when his dad was around -he was belligerent, and rebellious, and he fought every word spoken to him. Maybe he would be exactly the same on his own, but at least he would _know_. And he'd have found out all by himself.

He just couldn't get that at home.

A boot tapping against his shin pulled him from his maudlin thoughts. Jenn smiled at him, playfully jabbing at his pie-mush. "Eat your pie, or I'll steal it from you."

A smile crossed Shawn's face, and he took another bite. He may be stuck in his head and carrying a ton of baggage about his dad, but that was no reason to let delicious pie go to waste.

Halfway through the mush on his pie, Jenn checked her watch and scooted out of the booth. "Well, back to work for me." She dug into her pocket for bills to cover lunch, then paused. "Hey, Shawn, do you want a job?"

Mouth full of pie, he muttered a muffled, "Mwa?"

An easy smile crossed her face. "My part-timer's getting married tomorrow and will be gone for a week-long honeymoon, and I could use the help while he's away. Plus, an extra buck couldn't hurt you, right? Besides, give me a week of work, and I'll cut your charge in half." Tossing the bills on the scarred Formica tabletop, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "What do you say?"

Swallowing, he grinned up at her. "Sure, why not?" A pretty lady was offering him a job, and it wasn't like he had anything else to do. Besides, until his bike was fixed, it wasn't like he could go anywhere anyway. Like she said, an extra buck couldn't hurt him. And the experience would be good to have, even if he did nothing but stand over her shoulder and watch her work.

Beaming brightly, she clapped him on the shoulder. "Great! Come by later today and I'll give you your schedule. See you in a bit." Giving him another hearty clap on the shoulder, she swaggered out the door, calling good-byes to the people she knew.

Shawn sat back with a smile, taking another bite of pie and feeling much better all of a sudden. Here he was, on the road, with a source of income (for the next week, at least) and a pretty girl to work with. Gus wasn't here, which was a bummer, because Shawn would have loved to share this with Gus, but, then again, his dad wasn't here either. For once in his life, Shawn was on his own, a man of his own making, and whatever he did from here on out would be his own problem. No one would have to cover for him, no one would have to take the burden of his actions onto themselves. It would all be on him. That might suck, but then, it would be a learning experience.

He'd jumped into the deep end of the pool, and he was determined to swim his way to the surface, no matter what came at him.

He was finally _free_ , by god!

Chuckling over the inappropriate metaphor in this bone-dry place, Shawn finished his pie with gusto, licking the last bit of strawberry and rhubarb off his fork with a happy sigh. Oh, delicious pie… Dropping the fork onto the plate, he climbed out of the booth, swinging his bag onto his shoulder.

Alright. He'd go back to Jenn's garage and get his schedule, but first, he was going to make arrangements for a place to stay for the next week.

A pay phone in the back of the café caught his eye, and his feet veered towards it before his mind processed what he was seeing. He'd find a place to stay, but even before that, there was something else he had to do.

Digging into his pocket for a few quarters, he dialed a number he knew by heart, not surprised in the slightest when it was picked up on the first ring. With a grin crossing his face and elation ringing in his words, he leaned against the wall, phone tucked to his ear.

"Gus, buddy! You'll never guess where I am!"


End file.
